Candle Status
by Celebrian Lossehelin
Summary: Temporary name, it's a work in progress, I haven't updated in a while but I felt like it today. Thankies!
1. Study Sessions

A/N- I own naught but Marie Antoni, Sherwood Crotkis and his sister, plus the plot. But all other characters or settings are J.K. Rowling's. Except the part about "The Society", that's mine. YAY!

Chapter One

A dark rain accosted the bay windows and the rough stones of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The flashes of lightening illuminated the dark corridors and brightened the face of the lonely boy sitting at the window. He sighed deeply and pushed a shock of hair from his face. He leaned over a small book intently.

Amber eyes stared from behind the brown curls lying across his forehead; try as he might to suppress them. He held his wand six inches from his face, muttered "Lumos!" out of the corner of his mouth, and re-lighted his wand; the last thunder strike had jolted him so badly that it went out. He leaned a bit closer into his journal, quill flicking madly. Sherwood Crotkis was notorious for the midnight delvings into his own psyche, although many were used to it, it was still not a welcome commodity in the dorm.

_She looked at me today, journal. Those beautiful green eyes bored right into mine, and I started. But why would a girl like that have a crush on poor, miserable, silent Sherwood? Moaning Myrtle, maybe. Besides, back home there's Sarah to think about. But after she stopped writing last Christmas, somehow I think she has lost interest in the long-distance relationship thing. _

Sherwood stopped writing and stared out the window. His window faced west, where, across the wide and briny sea, lay a girl whom he had loved his whole life. Or had he? Perhaps Sarah did not return his affections. At seventeen years of age, Sherwood had had a few girlfriends, but he always came back to her. She was just different. She stood out in a crowd like a patch of sunlight amidst an overcast sky. She was his sun. But apparently, for her, he didn't even merit candle status.

Journal, I think it's time to break things off with Sarah. She hasn't written for a while and obviously does not carry the same respect for me to even talk to me about it. No to mention mom keeps going on about this really fine guy she's been hanging off of lately. What about that Marie Antoni? I should ask Amy about her.

Just then, a groggy voice called out through the darkness. "Oy, you! Turn out that light, you hear me? Some of us have a game tomorrow morning, in case you cared." With that sudden burst of noise, Sherwood doused his wand, closed his journal, and replaced both under his pillow.

The rest would have to wait until the morning light lay across his face in a blaze of splendor.

But no light met his eye upon it's opening. Dark sky and an even darker room greeted his sleep-ridden mind. His ears opened to the slight sound of his fellow Hufflepuffs greeting the new, blustery, gloomy day.

He sighed deeply; a sigh filled with emotion, deep sorrow, and lifted his weary body from the warm comforts of his four-poster. Sherwood groggily crept to his trunk; inside laid the golden Quidditch robes that were the symbols of his past. The robes he used to wear so proudly were forsaken: rumpled and tossed aside like so much garbage. He had not returned the robes to the Captain, as he should have, instead, when he touched the cloth, he wrenched his hand away sharply. The memory of the robe had burned his skin like an ember from the dying fire downstairs. The memories of a past that was joyful and bright gave way to his future and present that were no brighter than the sky outside.

Instead, he pulled from the wooden container a pair of jeans, a yellow sweater and his cloak; painstakingly putting them on. It was so warm in his bed, so soft, so comfortable, but no, his empty stomach gave a loud, wavering rumble; reminding him of what still needed to be done. So thus he left the common room for the drafty corridors, entering into the candlelit Great Hall.

Sherwood gazed upon the four tables in gleaming finery, groaning under the weight of the many breakfast plates. The head table was also groaning, not because it was filled with an enormous weight from one of the teachers, but because of food, and the teachers were tucking in with exemplary fervor. Above, the enchanted ceiling was filled with the November sky, bright flashes that illuminated the tables and the faces of the grim students.

Today was the much anticipated, almost dreaded, Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch match. A solemn, ominous feel flew through the crowded hall, saturating every wizard's body and eating at their soul. The tension was almost unbearable. In order not to look even more the fool than everyone thought he was, Sherwood crossed the room quickly, staring at the floor, feeling as though all eyes were on him. He resigned himself to a spot surrounded by first years, a place no normal seventh year would have been acquiescent to be in. With a great sadness about him, he looked down at his plate and began to eat.

In pausing for a moment, he glanced up and saw a girl at the Gryffindor table looking just as excited to be there as he. She had long curly blonde locks, bright green eyes and was shorter than the first year sitting next to him. He guessed her to be around 16, despite her lack of stature. She was sitting among the famous, almost notorious, trio of Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Nearby, sat the fifth year Ginny Weasley, looking happy to have Harry nearby. The trio was obviously ignoring her, and was making a point for it to be known. Even Ginny Weasley, apparently the same age, was ignoring her.

The girl at Gryffindor chanced a smile at him, but he just stared glumly back. Ever since the death of Cedric Diggory, an event that changed Sherwood's life forever, Sherwood smiled little and was silent much. He only smiled when his girlfriend back in America wrote, which was infrequent. No, instead her smile was snuffed out like a candle in the dreadful gale they faced.

Sherwood drew his eyes from her and back down at his breakfast plate. He pushed away a few curls, and then began to eat once more. All the while he felt a pair of eyes on his head, watching him, with every move he made. Just then, the Gryffindor table burst into a rousing chorus of "Weasley is our King", which drew his attention back to the table across from him. Sherwood looked for the girl and spotted her staring at him.

The girl was not participating in the festivities as those around her were so blatantly doing. Instead, she was staring glumly at him, her face contorted with a kind of intense boredom. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, she rolled her eyes in an extremely exaggerated fashion. He smiled, and laughed out loud, then a second later frowned in disbelief. This girl, whom he hardly knew, had made him happy, if only for a split-second, happier than he had ever been at home.

He quickly rose from his seat, his right arm tipping over the jug of pumpkin juice on the way, and sprinted from the hall. Unfortunately for the poor distraught Hufflepuff, in his desperate flight through the crowded hall, he had bumped the most temperamental sixth year there was.

"Oy! Stop there! I'm a prefect!" screamed Draco Malfoy as he recovered his spilled glass of pumpkin juice. Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles menacingly.

Despite the angry yells and the threatening sounds that erupted from the distraught sixth years, Sherwood Crotkis sprinted and sprinted. He was running so haphazardly that he ignored the irate prefects, not noticing where his feet were taking him. He ended up in the owlery, which was definitely not where he wanted to be. He looked at his tawny screech owl, Tybalt, and Tybalt stared right back at him. The golden eyes stared with a kind of pleading intensity, making Sherwood take a step forward, with which he consequently stepped in a rather large pile of owl feces.

"I'm sorry Tybalt," Sherwood answered those eyes, pleading himself. "But I haven't anyone to send you to. My mum and dad wouldn't have anything to say to me and I haven't anything to say to them. I guess I could send you to someone on campus, but I can't think of nary a one. You'll forgive me Tybalt?" Sherwood asked as he stroked Tybalt's shiny brown head.

The owl fluttered his wings for a moment, then sort of settled himself to enjoy Sherwood's attention. Sherwood stroked the owl, looking around at the dimly lit and drafty owlery. He began to shiver slightly, even with his cloak around him and the warmth of the hundreds of owls on perches towering over and around him. He let go of Tybalt, who took flight to sit with a number of birds from another part of the owlery, and then walked without thinking down the stairs and into the corridors.

He was thinking about so many things that had happened in his six years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Two years ago, he had been a part of the limited quantity of students at Hogwarts who had actually believed Cedric to be dead and Voldemort to have returned. Yes, he was not afraid to speak the name of the one whom so many feared. Many didn't realize how widespread Voldemort's evil had become in the days of his utmost potency.

Back in the time of Voldemort's reign of power, before the Potter's were killed and The Boy Who Lived "triumphed" over darkness, Voldemort's wrath spread to the shores of America. Sherwood's own father had been what was called a "Vanquisher", the American equivalent of an Auror, and had led raids against the members of the "Society", the branch of Death Eaters in America. His mother had disapproved of his father's interactions with people "of that sort", but he had felt the need to protect his country against the threat of people like the Society and Lord Voldemort.

His thoughts were so immersed in what had lead up to his present life, he hardly noticed where he was going until he stepped into the Hufflepuff common room. He started slightly to feel the warmth of the embrous fire still burning in the hearth, the vacant chairs unoccupied by students with much happier, more enjoyable, or at least more bearable than his own. He crossed the empty common room with wide, drawn out steps.

He walked up the winding steps to the seventh year dormitory room, and plopped on his bed, lost in thought once more. In the gale, winds lashed and rain stung the castle, beating and abusing like a wounded beast. Sherwood was somewhat frightened by the storm, but wouldn't admit it, even to himself. Thinking of things even remotely frightening, led him to Snape's double potions on Monday. Two days was hardly enough time to prepare especially with that horrid two foot essay due...

"Holy, cow." Sherwood grabbed his bag and sprinted from the room. He careened through the empty common room, through the drafty corridors and into the bright and merry Library. Maybe he'd find someone in the Library to help him with it; he wasn't the best at Potions anyway.

The cheery Library was silent and welcoming. He sat down at an empty table, pulled out a paper sheaf, grabbed some books and looked around. The Library was steadily emptying, all but the librarian, Madame Pince and some bedraggled students scurrying to finish their homework before the big game.

Across from Sherwood, at a table shoved up against the wall in the haste of the students, sat that girl. She had her face hidden behind One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, but the bright curls were unmistakable. He tried not to stare, but it was terribly troublesome. He didn't want her to see him struggle with Potions, as he always did, but he wanted to be near her so awfully. He glanced back down at the assignment paper he had whipped out of his backpack upon his arrival at the Library and sighed. He had better get working.

Upon a second glance, he noticed that she had lowered her book, peeking out over the top at him. She quickly ducked back behind it at his glance, but looked up again. Sherwood peered back and chanced a wavering smile. She smiled back, a smile that spread from cheek to cheek, enveloping her whole face, and his enlarged. She gathered her weighty books and rose from the table. As she drew herself to her full height, her alarmingly tall height of five foot two, and walked over to his table, taking a seat across from him.

By now, all of the students rushing to the match had disappeared and the tables around them were empty. He realized automatically that she had indeed intentionally come to sit across from him. The only other person in the Library was Madame Pince, although she was busying herself with the forbidden section of the library, straightening books. Though she was obscured from view, the few odd ear-splitting screams were enough to show the whereabouts of the intolerable Madame Pince.

Sherwood was somewhat taken aback by her sudden appearance that he was speechless until her salutation broke his silence.

"Hi," she said, somewhat breathlessly.

"Hi," he replied.

"I'm Marie Antoni," the bravery quavering in her voice was almost inaudible, almost.

"Sherwood Crotkis." He held out his hand, as if to shake, and she extended her own. For a brief moment in time, they touched, and though there was no shock or any spark, the pulled away quickly. "Seventh year, Hufflepuff, you?"

"Fifth year, Gryffindor."

He looked back at his parchment, his handsome face pulling into a terrible scowl. As he looked up again, he noticed she had shoved her face back into the book. She had only recently picked up An Exhaustive Almanac of the Most Difficult Potions, and was reading with fervor. Sherwood leaned back in his chair, immobilized with shock.

"You, _like_, potions? He asked, his voice not even attempting to mask the obvious disbelief.

"Yes!" She exclaimed, her exclamation made Madame Pince show her face as she shushed Marie profusely. "I mean yes," she whispered. "Why?"

"I don't think I've ever met a fifth year who did, that's amazing."

She blushed slightly. "What are you working on?"

"Snape's two-foot long essay on '100 Reasons Why Alchemy is Useful in Every-day Life'." Sherwood grimaced, his face contorting into a bizarre rendition of a human face. He then handed over the paper on which he had written down the assignment. "Awful, eh?"

"Not for me. Do you need some help? I'd gladly oblige."

"I'd like that, but wouldn't it seem weird? You know, a fifth year tutoring a seventh year? I mean, could I possibly make it up to you?" He was thinking of what his friends would think of his audacity to ask a fifth year for help. Well, what friends he had.

"Don't mention it. Plus, you're helping me, reviewing and all that jazz for my O.W.L.s this year." O.W.L.s were ordinary wizarding levels, the exams fifth years took. Marie said this with a sweet, charming, enticing voice, with a winning smile draped across her features.

"I love you! You are wonderful!" Sherwood had stood, come around the table and scooped Marie into his arms, twirling her around as he exclaimed. "Potions is my absolute worst subject, ever!" Madame Pince was livid by this point. With a painful stare, she made Sherwood place Marie back in her seat, and re-seat himself.

"Well good, let's get to work..." Marie began, but Sherwood broke in, rather rudely.

"I know! Next weekend is the Hogsmeade trip, right? I'd like to buy you a butterbeer. Okay?"

"I'd like that," Marie said, with another smile, "But we have to focus now. Now, in this book, Alchemy..."


	2. A Butterbeer for Your Thoughts

A/N- I own naught but Marie Antoni, Sherwood Crotkis and his sister, plus the plot. But all other characters or settings are J.K. Rowling's. Except the part about "The Society", that's mine. This is not a complete chapter, but my ONLY reviewer was so insistent at having a new chapter… Enjoy!!

**Chapter Two**

Nightly study sessions occurred throughout the rest of the week. Sherwood and Marie practiced together, walked to classes together, and, except for the daily meals, were almost inseparable. Sherwood had discovered something as well: she was dismal at charms, one of his best subjects. So, kindly, he returned her favor. Under his guidance and instruction, she was steadily improving. By Friday night, however, they were both ready for a break.

"So I'll see you tomorrow at the front gates?" Sherwood inquired in the light of the many flickering lamps in the Library. "I can get you that butterbeer I promised you."

"Bright and early, you betcha." Marie stood from her seat, leaned on her tiptoes, and did something she never expected or meant to do. Marie Antoni had kissed him on the cheek. "See you," she whispered over her shoulder as she glided from the now silent Library.

Sherwood stood there, gazing after her, his eyes locked and heart pounding. He couldn't move. Rooted to the floor were his feet, as if he were standing in a tightening Devil's Snare. A hand clapping him on the back, which awoke him from his confused stupor, startled him. Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were standing right behind him, Ron wobbling slightly.

"Nice Crotkis," Harry said in an approving tone. "I had my eye on her for a little while. She's a bit to brainy for me you know," contempt filling his voice as he turned to leave.

"Good, I can tell Hermione you're taken then," Ron said, his words slightly slurred. "Now she can stop obsessing over you," he leaned in closer, "and obsess over me." He turned to leave also, tripping over his own feet in Harry's wake.

"Good luck, mate. You'll need it," Sherwood whispered to himself. Something was up with Ron, he thought he knew but wasn't sure. Sherwood watched as the gangly sixth year followed after his hero.

Sherwood gathered his things together, stowing them in his bag. As he lifted a particularly bumpy sheaf of parchment, he noticed something that was definitely NOT his: hidden under the sheaf of parchment was a mass of pink and white silk, in other words, Marie had left her favorite scarf in the Library. Sherwood picked it up, giving it a casual touch. It felt like her skin, soft and sweet. On impulse, he lifted the pink and white confection to his nose, smelling her. She smelled like lavenders and vanilla. Quickly, he stuffed it into his pocket, looking around him shiftily. When all was neatly stowed in his bag, just the way he liked it, he made his way up to the Hufflepuff common room, feeling a little light-headed.

Marie was sitting in the Gryffindor common room, her nose buried in a book, as the two friends came rioting in. They were laughing uproariously over something, greatly disturbing the room's peaceful environment. Hermione Granger called from across the room over their guffaws.

"Will you two keep it down? Some of us are trying to STUDY?"

They came thundering up to her, panting and wheezing from their noise. Ron, after much staggering and some falling, reached out an arm and lifted her to her feet by her elbow.

"We have bad news love!" Ron said, obviously, he had one too many Firebrand's Fire Whisky. For his brazen actions, he received a sharp slap across the face. "I mean Hermy! Guess what? That seventh year you are hopelessly in love with, obsessive I should say," Ron made a face at this, but it brightened with his next words. "Well we have some bad news, he's been taken."

"Really now, what makes you think I am 'hopelessly in love' with Sherwood Crotkis? Anyhow, who is it?" Hermione asked, pushing the obviously drunk Ron into a chair.

Ron raised a shaking finger, pointed across the room, gave a mighty guffaw, and then passed out then and there. Hermione glared at Marie, who stole up the stairs to the dormitory. Hermione and Harry each took one of Ron's arms and hauled him up the stairs, letting him hit his head on the ceiling once or twice.

In the dormitory, Marie flung herself on her bed, shutting the curtains as she did so. Ginny Weasley was also in the room, though Marie ignored her. Sleep claimed her instantaneously. Hours later, in the bitter watches of the night, Marie sat straight up in her bed, the sheets tangling around her legs.

"I can't believe I did that. I actually kissed him!"

The glorious sun broke through the clouds that beautiful Saturday morning. The Hogsmeade trip was a bright shining spot in the gloomy lives of those students that could go. Sherwood came to slowly, gazing about him with eyes that dripped with sleep. He rubbed his eyes then stood and walked to the mirror. Catching a glimpse of the clock, Sherwood gasped.

"Oh my gosh!" Sherwood exclaimed. He hurried as he tried to get ready, pulling on jeans and a sweater proved quite difficult. He attempted to flatten his rowdy curls, but to no avail. It was no use. As he pulled his cloak over his tall and lanky form, he grabbed Marie's scarf and tied it around his neck as she might. He grabbed his wand and some coins and rushed down the stairs, tripping a bit.

On the stairs that he rushed down, people giggled to see the pink and white striped scarf flying behind him. He didn't care however, he just ran as hard as can be, trying to get there before Marie. He knew the attempt was futile, but she was worth it.

In the Gryffindor dormitory, Marie Antoni was playing with her blonde curls, trying to figure out how to wear them that day. When she looked down from her reflection to grab her hairbrush, she gasped to see the clock. It was 8:45. She was already fifteen minutes late! Sherwood would be so angry. She dropped her hairbrush, grabbed her purse and her jacket, only then did she realize that something was missing. Her scarf! She must have left in the Library last night when she, oh dear. She had kissed him! The thought of Sherwood's soft cheek brought a set of goose bumps racing up and down her spine. She decided not to worry about it, but rushed from the dorm, her blonde curls flying.

On the landing in front of the doors, Sherwood was run into by a very short, curly haired blonde, obviously in a rush.

"I'm so sorry---- OH!" Marie exclaimed as she picked herself up, dusting herself and finally looking up at him. She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry I'm late, but I couldn't find my…" She noticed the bright pink and white scarf tied haphazardly around Sherwood's neck and grinned. "Cute, it becomes you."

He smiled, "You aren't late, I was. No one in my stupid dorm woke me up." He reached up to take off the silly scarf, but she reached up too.

"Wear it." They smiled and set off towards the front gates where Filch waited with the list of students allowed into Hogsmeade.

The day was bright and crisp, with a biting chill in the wind that caused many a student to huddle together while they waited to be let into the village. Marie was no exception; she stepped closer to Sherwood, he was tall enough to block the wind for her. He saw her blatant attempt to become warmer, and unraveled his own scarf from his neck, with the yellow and black stripes and handed it to her. She laughed, they were exchanging articles of clothes already! But she took it aside from that. She was warmer, but she looked like an idiot.

Finally, as Filch let them through the gates, Sherwood and Marie started walking towards the Three Broomsticks. Sherwood's legs were so long and his steps so wide at a normal gait that Marie had to almost run to keep up. Sherwood noticed, laughed and slowed down. They talked little as they walked, a bit to cold to hold a normal conversation.

Once inside, with a tall tankard of Butterbeer in front of both of them, they talked freely. The brightly lit pub was crowded with students vying for the best spots near the fireplaces. Sherwood and Marie had nabbed one of the best of them, while they had a clear view of the trio.

Hermione was wrestling a tankard of Butterbeer from Ron's grip. No doubt, she remembered his antics under the influence of way too many beverages from the pub. She obviously wasn't sure what a simple Butterbeer would do to him. Ron looked mutinous, but Harry laughed, bringing his own tankard to his lips. Ron finally retrieved his Butterbeer, while Hermione, slightly dripping, glared at him.

Sherwood was warm and happy, watching Marie enjoy herself with the other student's behavior. He decided to strike up another conversation.

"So, Marie, do you like, um, Quidditch?" Sherwood asked hesitantly.

"Quidditch? Heavens no!" Marie looked shocked that he'd be asking such a question. "I never liked the game. It seems to me to be such a waste of time, just people flying around on sticks, hitting stuff at each other and trying to throw a ball through some circles."

"And in that you would be wrong." Sherwood had noticed that Harry and Ron were staring at Marie, tankards stopped in midair on the way to their mouths. He dropped his voice. "Have you ever tried playing Quidditch?"

Now it was Marie's turn to blush, but that blush didn't last long. She shook her head, then took another swig of Butterbeer.

"Have you ever watched Quidditch?" Another shake. "Have you ever been flying?" Another shake, and Sherwood was astounded. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious, not like I want to. I was sick every time we had flying lessons in first year. You see," Marie paused, not wanting to confide, but wanting him to understand. "I'm afraid of heights."

Sherwood laughed, then stopped himself. "Oh, I'm sorry." He stifled his laughter with another healthy gulp from his Butterbeer, and it was gone. "Um, do you want another Butterbeer?"

"No, how about we get out of here?" Marie could feel the eyes of Harry and Ron, both on the Gryffindor team and in whose opinions Quidditch was the best thing since sliced bread, staring at her back, gleaming with hatred. "Um, you want to walk up to the Shrieking Shack or something?"

"Um, sure, if you want." Sherwood shrugged, then led Marie out of the warmth of the pub and into the crowded streets. The path wound up to the Shrieking Shack, with little stores like Honeydukes and Flourish & Blotts. They walked, in somewhat silence, then stopped.

"You want to go into Honeydukes?" Sherwood asked. "It's on me."

"Sure, but nonsense, I've got my money. Thanks though."

Once inside, they grabbed what they could through the crowds, including Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Fizzing Whizbees and mistakenly, some Cockroach Clusters. They didn't want to sit in there and be pushed and shoved through the room, so they stepped outside and sat on a bench.

"Um, do you know what Quidditch is about?" Sherwood said between bites of his chocolate frog.

"No not really, no one ever cared to engage me with the rules or anything. So I just kind of guessed I wasn't missing anything."

"Oh you are so wrong! Quidditch is the best sport in the world. I'll explain if you like." Sherwood smiled, showing a bit of chocolate on both sides of his mouth. Marie smiled too, as his was infectious.

"I'd like that," Marie whispered, wiping the chocolate from Sherwood's mouth. He caught her hand, holding it in his. It was dreadfully cold.

"Your hands are like ice!" Sherwood exclaimed, dropping what was left of his frog, and grasping her hands with both of his. She was startled.

"But, I'm not cold. They just get that way sometimes, I guess." She pulled her hands back and stuffed them in her pockets. She seemed uncomfortable. "Um, you want to keep, uh, walking?"

"Sure, I guess." Sherwood seemed worried, but stood as well. As they started to walk up towards the Shrieking Shack, stopping here and there in odd-shops, he launched into an explanation of Quidditch. They ended up turning around once more and heading back to the Three Broomsticks.

The hour was getting later, and Sherwood wanted to grab a Butterbeer before heading back to the castle.

"Another for you, milady," Sherwood said as he placed a tankard in front of Marie. She giggled and took a sip. She lifted her head from her tankard with a foam mustache on top of her upper lip. She made Sherwood laugh by not realizing what was there. He reached over and wiped it off with a napkin, still laughing.

As the afternoon dwindled away, Sherwood and Marie walked back to the front gates and up the sloping lawn.

"Gee, I didn't know I was missing so much by never understanding Quidditch," Marie admitted. They were almost to the front doors and it was almost time for dinner. "I had a lot of fun today, Sherwood. Thanks for everything." She took his hand and wouldn't let go until they walked into the Great Hall together, splitting only so that they could sit at their own tables.

Unbeknownst to them, another couple had entered the Great Hall behind them, also holding hands. The other pair made their way to the Gryffindor table, dragging an overly jealous best friend behind them.

That night, in the Gryffindor common room, two people sat with their faces to the fire, sharing a loveseat. Sitting next to them, in a large overstuffed armchair, was their best friend, with a tremendously sour look on his face. In the back of the common room, however, Marie was busy scribbling away in her notebook, a look of satisfaction on her face and a smile too.

As soon as she was finished writing whatever it was she was writing, she grabbed her tawny owl and tied the mall note to her leg.

"Thanks Bella, take it to Tybalt's owner, okay?" As soon as Bella had ruffled her feathers in Marie's face, she was off. Marie was as well, off to the dorm to grab her cloak.

Sherwood reached for the small, pink note tied to Bella's leg and opened it. Instantly he dashed up the stairs and into the boys' dormitory in the Hufflepuff house. He threw on a cloak and some cologne and ran down the stairs again.

In the drafty corridor, a dark classroom was lit with the light of two wands, and inhabited by two teenagers.

"Sherwood, there is something I need to tell you," Marie began, but was cut off short by a strong arm enveloping her waist and pulling her in for a kiss. "No, I need to tell you something.."

"Later," Sherwood murmured in her ear as he ruffled her hair.

"No, now." She pushed him away with all her strength.

Sherwood sighed, pushed back his dark curls and sat in a desk. "Shoot."

Marie sat down next to him. Her brow was furrowed and she looked troubled.


	3. A Hufflepuff in a Gryffindor's Room

_A/N- I own naught but Marie Antoni, Sherwood Crotkis and his sister, plus the plot. But all other characters or settings are J.K. Rowling's. Except the part about "The Society", that's mine. I know it's been forever since I started this story but I'm going to try and be more regular… lol That sounds funny. Hey guess what? NEW CHARRIE! Yay! Review, please. If anyone would like to be a beta reader for me, it would be GREATLY appreciated. Dos out._

Chapter Three

The day dawned clear and bright, the sun reflecting off the snow with great ease and happiness. Everything was right in the world as Gryffindor woke from its slumber and the girl's dormitory was filled with light. Hermione Granger rubbed her eyes sleepily and yawned, stretching out lazily like the ginger cat curled up at her feet.

It was Sunday and not yet eight. Most of the sixth year girls were still asleep, but not Hermione. She stared at the hangings of her four-poster, thinking of a certain person… dreaming… wishing… when it happened.

Someone had attempted to run up the girls' staircase, a boy no doubt, before it had turned into a great stone slide and threw the guilty party back into the common room. Someone was screaming downstairs.

"Hermione! HERMIONE!" Came a voice from the depths of the common room that were so far from Hermione's mind. The door flew open and Ginny Weasley, red-hair streaming behind her, came sprinting into the room, jumped on Hermione's bed and started shaking her.

"Hermione! Wake up, Harry's in trouble! Ron can't wake him up!" Ginny wailed, still shaking her.

"WHAT?" Hermione jumped from bed and Crookshanks, looking distressed at being routed from his nice, warm spot, stole through the dorm and downstairs. Hermione raced after him, the cold stone biting through the warmth of her socks and her spirit, thoroughly chilling her. What was going on? Maybe Voldemort has finally broken through his defenses and had taken over; maybe he had one too many butterbeers in Hogsmeade yesterday; whatever the reason, Hermione's heart was beating fast and irregularly.

As she reached the bottom of the dormitory stairs, she spied Ron sprawled across the rug in front of the fire. Upon sighting her, his face turned deep red, redder than his hair, and he scrambled to stand. Without a word, he led her in a dash up the boys' dormitory stairs and into their room. Ron breathed deeply and pulled back Harry's bed hangings.

Sherwood stood in front of the mirror in his dorm, staring at his reflection and thinking. It had been two weeks since their first date, and Sherwood and Marie were closer than ever. She made him feel wonderful, as though he weren't the silent, brainy, depressing Sherwood that everyone said he was. She was wonderful, beautiful, brainy, and absolutely perfect in every way. He was still tortured about what he had stopped her from saying two weeks ago when a teacher had passed by.

She had wanted to say something brutally important, but he had stopped her... A small brown thing flew into the room and whacked into his head… It was an owl…

"Hello little owl," Sherwood said as he took the note from it's leg.

Sherwood,

Something's happened to Harry Potter. He won't wake up, no matter what we do. Can you come to Gryffindor tower straightaway? The password is 'lios'. If the Fat Lady gives you difficulty, tell her I sent you. Please come straightaway.

Tons of Love, Marie

Sherwood dropped the note on the floor and dashed out of the dormitory and through the entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room. He skidded up the stairs and around corners until he stood in front of the Fat Lady, totally and completely winded.

"Lios!" he gasped. The Fat Lady sat in her portrait, staring at him.

"Who are you? I can't let you in!"

"Sherwood Crotkis from Hufflepuff House! Marie Antoni sent for me, something's wrong with Harry Potter!" He yelled at her. "I have the damn password! Lios! Let me in!"

Reluctantly the Fat Lady swung forward and revealing a hole, which looked in on-- complete and utter chaos.

As Ron started to pull back the hangings on Harry's four-poster, Hermione breathed in a sharp gasp.

In Harry's bed was something that did not resemble Harry at all. His body was rigid, his eyes wide and unseeing. From his tight-lipped mouth emitted screams of agony and high-pitched wheezing. Harry's eyes, normally a bright green, were reddish in color, and they had become narrower. Hermione screamed and flung herself on the bed. Harry's wand arm shot out and a bolt of red light flew at her as she was catapulted off the bed and into the wall opposite.

"Bloody hell," Ron moaned. He reached for his own wand, and screamed for someone to get Dumbledore, his wand trained at Harry's heart. "You may wish to get Madam Pomfrey as well!"

Marie stood waiting in the Common Room, hoping that Sherwood would show up soon. The room was in complete disarray. People were standing about in large groups, most were crowding up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, trying to see what was going on. Apparently Harry wasn't the only one who had been affected. Neville Longbottom was nowhere to be seen and Ginny was screaming for him.

Ginny came pelting down the staircase and ran through the portrait hole as Sherwood staggered through it. Marie sighed deeply and threw herself at him, pulling him along with her.

"Sherwood! Something's happened!" She cried in his ear over the din of the confused students. "I think it's You-Know-Who---"

Sherwood silenced her with a look. The common room became silent with the words Marie had spoken and someone coughed. "Is someone getting Dumbledore?" Sherwood called into the throng.

Someone shouted back, "Ginny Weasley!"

Marie and Sherwood made their way up the stairs and into the room where 'Harry' lay. Ron had his wand pointed at Harry's heart and stared at Sherwood with relief in his eyes.

"Sherwood, thank God. Is someone getting the Headmaster?" Sherwood nodded. He looked about and heard Marie utter a small scream and rush forward. She knelt beside Hermione and pushed her hair away from her eyes. "Stunned, I think," Ron said. "But from the way Harry's been acting and the way he looks, I wouldn't be surprised if it was something worse."

"How did it happen?" Sherwood asked, staring at Harry's eyes… they looked so familiar…

"I'm not sure," Ron shrugged. "I was sleeping and then Harry started making this bizarre noise, like he was choking or something. So I freaked out, thinking he was being attacked again, and I got up. But he was just sleeping; when I shook him to wake him up, I got this terrible shock. I thought he was having a nightmare or something but apparently not. Then when Hermione tried to touch him, she, well—" Ron gestured at Hermione Granger's heavily breathing body.

Sherwood examined Harry's body closely, but not too closely, taking in every detail. Something was familiar, but strangely amiss. He leaned closer, but Ron held out a hand.

"I wouldn't do that, mate."

Just then, Dumbledore and McGonagall came bustling into the room, looking flustered and gravely serious. Nobody asked any questions why there were girls in the boys' dormitory and someone from Hufflepuff in the Gryffindor dormitories.

McGonagall gasped loudly at the sight of Harry's rigid body and Hermione on the ground. She ran towards Harry's bed, but Sherwood interrupted.

"Uh, professor? That's not such a great idea."

"What are you talking about? Of course it's a good idea---'' She barely had time to dodge as a bolt of red light shot towards her. There was no wand in Harry's hand and Dumbledore could not see where it had come from.

"I believe it would be wise if everyone save Sherwood Crotkis, Ronald Weasley do not move, and myself left the room. When Poppy gets here, please send her up Minerva." Dumbledore closed his eyes and his mind was tossed into deep concentration.

The rest of the people in the room filed out slowly and the door shut automatically behind them. Dumbledore placed his fingers on his temples and opened his eyes.

"He has thrown up a strong shield protecting young Harry's mind. I cannot see beyond the wall of red," Dumbledore said in frustration.

"He, headmaster?" Sherwood asked.

"Voldemort."

Ron shuddered a second at the name. As he quivered, his wand dropped slightly. Harry's eyes shifted over to him in a flash and Ron was against the wall, his wand bereft of a hand to hold it. Dumbledore reached out his own wand.

"Accio wand!" both Dumbledore and "Harry" yelled at almost the same time, though the wand flew to Dumbledore. He handed it to Sherwood who kept it in his hand.

"I do hope Poppy gets here soon."

"Headmaster! What can we do?"

"To tell you the truth, Sherwood, I'm not certain."

Sherwood stared at Dumbledore in amazement. "What do you mean you aren't certain?"

"Well this is obviously a form of Legilimens but I've never before encountered it. Perhaps we should call upon Madame Jorvus? Mayhap she can be of some service."

The new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, Madam Angeline Jorvus, was a fiery young teacher who had once been an Auror. Due to a problem with her knee, however, she was a liability to the Ministry and had retired at a very young age. She had taken over for Professor Moody that summer due to his excessive paranoia. Umbridge had been removed from her position because most of the students had complained about the lack of practical teaching going on. Dumbledore had admitted that, had it not been for the illegal yet necessary, D.A., most fifth years would not have passed the exam.

Dumbledore waved his wand and a young, flustered witch came into the room. Her red hair was cut very short and her glasses askew.

"Yes headmaster? What the---" She uttered as her eyes lay on the body in the bed.

"That my dear is Harry Potter."

"Albus? You are kidding, that is most definitely not Harry Potter. I'd say it was Voldemort."

Dumbledore sighed. "That is the problem Angeline, it is both. I believe it is a form of Legilimens, though I cannot be sure. Your input is greatly appreciated."

"I've seen this before, not exactly the best situation. Is he randomly stunning people that get too close?" Dumbledore nodded. "I see. This is indeed rather a pickle. Well hello Crotkis. How did you get in here?"

"Well, um, you see… Marie Antoni sent me an owl explaining the situation… I don't know whether she wanted comfort or thought I could help, or what, but she gave me the password and here I am. I hope I'm not in trouble." Sherwood smiled weakly.

"Not at all. In fact your presence is greatly appreciated." Dumbledore looked pensive. "Wait a minute, did anyone see Neville Longbottom on their way up?"

The other two shook their heads. "Send out a search party, send for Madame Pomfrey. Here's what we do…"


End file.
